Nine Lives

Twenty-Two: Jack

I chase after Alice, listening to her quiet sobs as she races away. The winds pick up, ripping at her hair. Dark storm clouds roll in, matching the mood. Thunder cracks overhead, sending a drizzle of rain upon the ground. For a moment, it almost look like the clouds are crying.

Alice bolts ahead, probably knowing I'm following her. She glances over her shoulder, her face streaked with rain and tears, looking exasperated.

"Jack, leave me alone!" She stops, standing in the middle of the road. No cars roll down the street. No birds flap above us. No pedestrians bother us. The harsh winds send her dark hair across her face, all I can see are her dazzling green eyes. I've stared at them a second too long. I almost believe Skylar's ridiculous claims, that if you stare into the black cats eyes you'll dissolve; but the black cat is also my Alice, and I'd stare into her eyes for eternity.

She pulls her hair away from her face, the black storm clouds casting a ghostly shadow over her already pale face. "Things are just gonna keep gettin' worse for you. Just leave now, before it's too late."

"Why?" I shout back over the whipping winds.

"You're a Human, you wouldn't get it. It's way too complicated." Her green eyes seem wider, even brighter than before.

"Then tell me." But as I take a step closer, she darts down an alley. I follow, but all I see is a little black cat running through the rain. And being my idiotic human self, I ran after her.

The doors to Mr. Lyanne's mansion seem much more menacing the second time I stand on the stairs. The huge, wooden doors looms above; seeming like an angry mouth. A voice in my head says, go back now. I ignore them and push the door open. My face is cast in a cold, black shadow.

He stands in my way, Mr. Lyanne himself. Small rumors have spread around the town: he's cursed, his house is cursed, his eyes curse you; our town is basically obsessed with curses. After all, anything or one that isn't just how they like it is automatically labeled a curse.

I'd met the man before, even seen him Shift into a huge black jaguar, but he looks even more terrifying for some reason. Maybe it's the dismal weather. He's dressed head to toe in white, a pristine white suit, combed back salt and pepper hair, and white dress shoes covered with silver spats. The man's face is pale and cast in dark shadows. His golden eyes settle on me disapprovingly.

I gulp. "G'afternoon Sir." The words feel like cotton stuck in my throat.

"Jack Cuffman, what part of 'stay out of my house' did you not understand?" he asks with his deep southern accent and perfect enunciation, but the words are gruff and grumbling.

I ignore his question, which definitely breaks the South's reputation for gentlemen. "The teacher assigned us as study partners," I lie. Mr. Lyanne makes a face, nose twitching as his senses my dishonesty. The usual disapproving amber gaze begins to look more feline than usual, pupils thinning to black slits, irises widening and shutting out the whites.

But his eyes quickly return to normal. "And why exactly did you have to come to my house?" He says it as if his house is a ghost house, house of a shut-in. As if he shares it with no one but himself and that allegedly cursed black-cat with green eyes.

"My mamma's got the flu, I wouldn't want Alice gettin' sick or somethin'," I lie again.

"Jack, anyone ever tell you you are a horrible liar?" he muses.

"Yes Sir, actually my mamma tells me that every day." He stifles a smile, but it falls quickly.

"Then I suppose you may come on in." His voice sounds grave, like he'd rather me not be in his home, but his hospitality shines through. I step through the doorframe. I almost get blown to the side though, the punch so hard. It was like a gust of wind, a cold, freezing, tornado-force gust. It's mixed with the salty smell of tears and the crisp, clean scent of vanilla. I don't know what it is, but it was soft yet hard all at once. It didn't even move or hit me, but I could sense it and smell it. The winds shifted. Everything is different now. I've made a choice beyond the point of return.